


The Cell

by casselfyre



Category: Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casselfyre/pseuds/casselfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you like the work.....'kudos'  feed the muse!</p>
<p>Thank You</p></blockquote>





	The Cell

 

I blink, and with a groan open my eyes. I am on the floor on my left side. Blinking again I figure out my vision is off, my eyes won’t focus properly. The light is harsh and the only color I see is a dirty beige. Rolling my eyes up I see a bright light set into the ceiling, it is covered by a heavily scratched, thick piece of Plexiglas.

 

My eyes close and I fall into sleep, but it is fragmented with the shrapnel of horrid images and marred by the spatter of blood.

 

Slowly, I open my eyes again to the same tan walls, I haven’t moved. Realization that I am lying, mouth slightly agape, in wetness, I have been drooling onto the floor and the slickness is cold neath my cheek.

 

Trying to sit up, I find my arms are secured behind my back; two sets of bindings, one across my upper arms securing my cybernetic arm to the flesh and bone of the other one, and another set bites into both wrists. The restraints are adjusted to more than snug, they actually pull my shoulder blades backwards and the tension there is relentless and painful. I try and move but can do little.

 

I look down towards my chest, movements sluggish, feeling the smear of spittle beneath my cheek and jaw. A heavy Kevlar jacket full of heavy straps is wrapped around me as well, enfolding my upper body in firm, unyielding embrace. Now my fuzzy, disjointed mind demands me to fight, to run to do SOMETHING.

 

My legs, I can’t see them and in response my heart slams against my chest painfully. Wait…….wait…. I can feel them, they have been secured at the ankles and drawn backwards and seem to be fastened to the wrist restraints.

 

What is this? I struggle, but am left weak and panting. I can only pull against myself and to tear free would damage my other limbs and maybe more. My eyes roll wildly, taking in the beige walls, the faint, dried, rust colored stains and smears on the walls. The room is claustrophobically small, and so quiet that I can hear my breathing and the faint hum of the incandescent light overhead.

 

To roll over I arch my back and my face presses into the dirty floor, but the view from this angle is even worse. My cell is about six foot by eight foot, and I am the only thing in it.

 

A small rectangular hole in one corner, set into the floor. I see the rounded steel bars over the hole and hear the trickle of water there and can guess its purpose.

 

How long have I been here? I don’t think I’ve used that crude toilet, or don’t remember using it. I can see dirty, tangled strands of my hair and smell the odor of sweat dried on my skin.

 

What IS this? I start to struggle, just knowing I need to get out of here. Then panic at being so restrained kicks in and my body writhes. I feel the burn and tear of something in my right shoulder giving way as my cyber-arm works against my own body.

 

It is too much and the pain explodes behind my eyes. I hear hoarse roars of agony and realize they are ripped from my dry throat and pass dry, cracked lips, but I cannot stop.

 

Eons seem to pass as I fight myself, squirming on the floor like a half-smashed bug.

 

Dimly, I realize that hands are on me, roughly pushing my face into the ‘padded’ floor, mashing my nose, and pressing lips against teeth. The heavy gauge needle drives deep into the muscles of my taut thigh, and whatever they dose me with burns as it infuses the muscle there.

 

Then for a moment more I fight, letting the drugs course through my raging system quickly. At last I start to relax a bit, and I realize that people are still in the doorway watching me.

 

“Where did this freak come from?”

 

“Get this Eddie; the stupid fucker turned himself in.”

 

“You’re shitting me!”

 

“Nope, said he was afraid he’d hurt someone. Ran his prints and they come back ‘not on file.’ Safe to say he’ll be here a long time.”

 

My eyes slam shut and I hear no more.

 

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((Song lyrics on image from 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons.))

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the work.....'kudos' feed the muse!
> 
> Thank You


End file.
